


Every Extreme Is On The Same Team(Even the wacky ones)

by orphan_account



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Crack Treated Seriously, I'm making my three favs interact, Other, That's it, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28375482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ancom and Ancap take Nazbol into the house while the Authoritarians are gone.
Relationships: Anarcho-Capitalist/Anarcho-Communist (Centricide), Libunity
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	1. Nazbol: the fascist puppy who got kicked

The house was quiet for a whole 12 hours and Ancap had relished in it. With the other three ideologies out doing whatever, he had time to work on his Ancapistan idea at the dining table without needing to worry about the others barging in on his planning.

It was short-lasting though, ending when his fellow anarchist slammed the door open.

“What the fuck is that.” Ancap glares behind his sunglasses, pointedly ignoring the person next to Ancom.

Ancom sighs, hand on the annoyingly joyful ideology.

“Nazbol. He won’t stop following me around, and I can’t find any of the statists.”

“That’s because they both don’t like me!” Nazbol smiles, teeth too clenched, and face too strained in that smile.

“And this is my problem because…?” Ancap frowns, looking at the Nazbol. “We arent his fucking friends-we are anarchists, not filthy statists.”

“You think I don’t know that,” Ancom frowns, green eyes glaring holes into Ancap. “I had to hear this dude ramble about the class rights of white people!” 

Ancap scrunches his face, whispering a _yikes_ underneath his breath at the mere mention of class rights. “Well, kick him out of my house then.” 

“Wait, please don’t!” Nazbol starts, hands grabbing at Ancom’s sweatshirt, looking the leftist in the eyes. “Commie and Nazi are so very mean to me! Every time I try to talk to either of them they shoo me away like a filthy degenerate! I’m not degenerate like you gays-“

“I told you this before if you say one more thing about minorities I _will_ punch you in the throat.” 

Nazbol releases Ancom’s clothes, stepping away a bit. 

“Why do they push you out, Nazbol?” Ancap asks, ushering for the two to sit down at the table, papers for Ancapistan messily piled in front of Ancap.

“Well,” Nazbol sits in the chair right next to Ancom, “they call me wacky! Saying that, fundamentally, I am not realistic and shouldn’t even exist.” 

Ancom and Ancap share a quick look. 

“And...Did that hurt your feelings?” Ancom asks, watching Nazbol quickly nod. 

“It did, but they didn’t seem to care.” 

“Well-“ Ancom leans closer to Nazbol, patting his shoulder, “I’m sorry they hurt your feelings, Nazbol.” 

Nazbol smiles and Ancap has to commend Ancom for qis sympathy. 

“Thank you, Ancom. You are really nice for a degenerate-“

Ancap watches Nazbol writhe in pain as Ancom’s grip gets tighter. Ancap sometimes forgets that all ideologies are physically stronger than humans, and this reminds him to use that strength more often. Would really scare the McDonalds CEO.

“Er, where are you planning on staying, Nazbol?” Ancap watches Nazbol shake off the pain, rotating his shoulder as Ancom sits back in qis chair. 

“Well, I was planning on just walking around again!” Nazbol says, putting his hands on the table. 

“How about no?” Ancap says, and Nazbol’s expression flattens. The thought of _this_ ideology walking around and spreading anti-capitalist propaganda seems like a bad idea. And him also spreading anti-anybody who isn’t white propaganda would probably make Ancom all pissy. “If you want to stay here, you can. I can’t tell you what to do- but it would be beneficial for all of us if you stayed here. Either Commie or Nazi will be coming home sometime this week, it’ll work out fine, yes?” 

Nazbol taps his fingers on the table, thinking. Face pinched as he taps rhythmically. 

“...I don’t have to stay?” 

“We ain’t gonna force you to stay,” Ancom nods.

“But you will have to pay ren-“ Ancap stops speaking when Ancom puts qis hand on his, a look of _not now_ on qis face. Ancap glares but doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I’ll accept your agreement, Ancap!” Nazbol smiles. “So, where will I be staying?”

“Well, we _do_ have two rooms open. Pick one, I guess,” Ancap shrugs. “Their fault for leaving you alone, it’s like a payback of some sort. Go look at the rooms. The doors say our names on it, so you shouldn’t have trouble.” Nazbol stands up, smiling at the two before walking away.

“I don’t know how to feel about two communists being in my house…” 

Ancom snorts at Ancaps comment, rubbing qis thumb on the back of Ancap’s hand.

“Don’t worry about him, we have our Libunity, yeah?” Ancom says leaning closer to Ancap. The two smile.

“Yes, of course,” Ancap leans closer. “To Libunity,” and he kisses qim on the cheek, the two still smiling. 

_“Er, fellow Comrades...Compatriates?”_ Nazbol yells. _“I do have a question!”_

Ancom stands up, stretching out qis body, giving Ancap one quick look before tending to Nazbol.

  
  


Ancap sighs, looking down at his papers.

“This can wait,” Ancap mumbles, and he walks away from the table to join Ancom and Nazbol.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really self-indulgent on my part, I do plan on making this something like "The Wacky Adventures of The Mistreated By Auths Trio" so more chapters to be expected!
> 
> I’ve also been kinda posting a lot, and I’m probably just gonna slow down on that because it’s a slight burn out for me? Idk.
> 
> Kudos and Comments are appreciated, I love you all <3


	2. Cleaning Up with the Extremists

“I’ve never been so...scared to eat.”

The two anarchists look down at the scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes on their plates. 

“It looks safe,” Ancom whispers, looking over to Nazbol who was cooking more pancakes for himself. “I mean- what would he even be able to put in here to kill us?”

“You don’t know what Nazi hides in his room. I once found a finger in there!” Ancap whispers back, his tone slightly scathing.

Ancom shrugs, grabbing a fork and taking a good bite of the syrupy pancakes.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I died, aint gonna be the last.” 

“You are too reckless,” Ancap sighs, copying Ancom’s actions and taking a bite of his pancakes. 

It was really good.

Like, surprisingly good.

Why the fuck is it so good?

  
  


Ancap suppresses a moan of delight, scarfing up more of the pancakes- trying out the crispy bacon. 

Nazbol comes out of the kitchen, a smile on his face as he sits down with his plate. 

“I’m surprised that a household with Commie and Nazi has very little food supplies,” Nazbol takes a bite of his eggs. “But I was able to make breakfast with an equal amount of ingredients in each pancake and eggs! No need to worry about who has the most.”

“It’s because they expect me to pay for it, even though I eat at restaurants and the occasional Mcdonald's burger,” Ancap starts eating the eggs.

“And I just don’t eat that much,” Ancom adds, finishing off qis bacon.

They watch Nazbol’s face twitch.

“Well, while I’m here I will try my best to make sure you two step away from the paths of degeneracy! And that starts with three meals a day, even proportions, and no soy!” 

Ancom squints, “you really believe that soy shit?” 

“Of course!” Nazbol smiles, continuing to eat. 

Ancom doesn’t bother to argue further on that and continues to eat qis food. “Where did you even learn to cook, Naz?” 

“Please don’t speak with your mouth full-“ Nazbol ignores the roll of Ancom’s eyes, “-And Nazi taught me.”

Ancap scoffs. “The bastard! We could’ve been eating this  _ lovely  _ breakfast every day if he wasn’t such a prick.”

“He probably would’ve poisoned it and killed all of us,” Ancom retorts, and qi looks over to Nazbol. “But, we are glad that you made us breakfast, Nazbol.”

“Yes, anything for my comrades, even if one is a Kulak.” Nazbol looks over to the ideology in yellow.

Ancap shrugs, used to the name by now.

They finish their breakfast, Nazbol insisting that the anarchists help clean up the kitchen while he cleans up the table.

Ancap frowns, looking at the spray bottle in his hand. Ancom whacks qis towel at Ancap, grabbing the other's attention.

“Why are you just standing there?”

“I don’t know what to do with this,” Ancap shakes the bottle. “Do I use it to clean the floor? The counters? The wall?” Ancom sighs. 

“And you wonder why I think rich people suck,” Ancom retorts.”I may not clean Jack shit, but I at least know how to.”

“That’s even worse! You just refuse to do it!” Ancap says, exasperated, but Ancom snatches the spray bottle from his hand and qi starts spraying down the counters. 

“Now you wipe the countertops with a towel. Super easy, yeah?”

“I guess,” Ancap mumbles, taking the hand towel in Ancom’s grasp and begins to scrub at the marble. “Oh this is easy.” Qi pats Ancap’s back, and begins scrubbing whatever Ancap hasn’t cleaned yet.

  
  


“Oh, you two are actually cleaning.”

The anarchists look over to the kitchen’s opening, Nazbol holding a mop and a bucket.

“Didn’t know we had that in the house,” Ancom raises an eyebrow. “Where’d ya find it?”

“In a closet full of photos and candles,” Nazbol replies, setting the bucket full of soapy water down onto the floor and putting the mop into it.

“Photos and candles…?” Ancom looks over to Ancap who is smiling, albeit forced.

“It should be nothing, don’t worry about it.” Ancap smiles and puts a hand on Ancom’s shoulder before quickly going back to wiping the counters. Qi looks to Nazbol for answers but the statist started to mop the kitchen tiles. Qi sighs, going back to cleaning as well.

  
  
  


In about 15 minutes, the kitchen was spotless. The grime on the counter was no more, the tiles were shiny and all the dishes were dried and in their respective cabinets.

“I’m so proud!” Nazbol smiles. “You two are on the right path to non-degeneracy.”

Ancom looks down to the mop in qis tight grip, ready to use it like qis bat, but Ancap nudges qim, shaking his head  _ no.  _

  
  
  
  
  


They all sit down on the couch, watching some Netflix show that Ancap put on despite the protests from the two communists. 

Nazbol sat between the two other extremists, occasionally handing them popcorn that he found in the pantry while he was cleaning. 

Ancom snakes qis arm behind Nazbol, tapping Ancap’s shoulder and grabbing the man's attention.

Fingers intersect, and the two hold hands. Nazbol didn’t seem to notice, too entranced by the apparent war show. 

  
  
  


They eventually fall asleep. Popcorn spilling from the bucket, but it can be dealt with later. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing for this fic is really therapeutic, idk, but I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated, I love you all <3


End file.
